


Elizabeth Taylor

by AxisMage



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Keith (Voltron), Fluff, Jock Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Sheithlentines 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxisMage/pseuds/AxisMage
Summary: With how close they are, with how everything just flows between them, with the little details they share, Shiro´s hazy mind can´t help but enjoy Keith´s presence and wonder why they still haven´t taken the leap of faith





	Elizabeth Taylor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for mari_sinpai. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you like it. I wish I could have done more, I wish I could have hit all the items on your wishlist, I really do, but apparently fluff was where my brain wanted me to go XD. Still, I hope you find it enjoyable and that you´re not disappointed. Happy Sheithlentine´s!

No matter how much he wants to, he can´t blame anyone but himself for getting one drink too many. There are several things he can try and use as an excuse, the two main situations being tiredness and victory. He can also say he did it because everyone else is doing it, but those are all lies. He´s been knocking back drink after drink until he can´t think clearly for one simple reason: he is not losing to Matt and handing over his scaled and very detailed model of constellations of the second and fourth galactic quadrants. It´s one of the projects he´s proudest of. There is no way he will let Matt have it only to use it as decoration. Or worse: use it as an object to throw things over, much like he uses even a dirty mug to stuff dirty Kleenexes into.

The image of his model being used to hang a bathrobe is enough incentive for him to down the fourth, fifth? shot of tequila. It burns as it goes down, though not as much as the first. He keeps his eyes shut, slams the shot glass down and reaches blindly for the slices of lemon he hopes are still on the plate. He manages to snatch one, squeezes the juice into his mouth before he even dares open his eyes. The world swims, he stumbles, manages to get a grip on the desk. By the time he raises his eyes, things aren’t as blurry.

“What´s next?” he gasps.

Matt is on his knees, hanging onto the table with both arms for dear life. His own glass lays on the floor next to him. “Whiskey,” Matt croaks.

Shiro takes a step forward, stumbles over thin air. Once more, he manages to avoid the ground out of sheer luck.

“You don’t look like you can take it,” he says.

Matt raises his head, face flushed a deep shade of red. He sticks his tongue out. “I can— I can still. Go. I´m not— not giving up. I´ll win.”

“Matt, we´ve downed enough tequila shots already. Not to mention the other drinks in between. At this rate we´ll—” Matt snorts. Shiro frowns at him. “What?”

“You really don’t want me to have your model, huh? You want to convince me to tap out so you don’t have to take the risk. You know, the very high risk of me winning.”

Shiro stares at him for a few seconds. When Matt manages a grin, Shiro grits his teeth and grabs the whiskey from the many bottles they have set out in front of them. 

“You are utterly insufferable,” he mutters, pours the golden liquid into their used paper cups. When they´re half full, he hands one to Matt, who goes pale this time.

“More?” Shiro asks.

“I hate you. On three. One, two… go.”

 

* * *

 

 

The world is made up of colorful and fuzzy balls floating all over the place. Even the people have become fuzzy. He has to narrow his eyes to keep the bodies in focus, and recognizing faces is pretty much a lost cause at this point. It´s a good thing Matt passes out after their latest glass of whiskey because Shiro couldn’t have taken more than one or two other drinks himself. As it is, he has a hard enough time maneuvering their bodies through the fuzzy bodies and up the stairs to get Matt to bed. He adds the whole situation to his list of little miracles in life.

Shiro thinks about stopping inside his room and collapsing into his own bed after closing the door to Matt´s room. He has achieved all the things he´d added to another of his mental lists in the morning: the team had won the game and earned their spot on the semifinals, he´d done his obligatory fifteen minutes with his teammates at the usual frat party that followed a win. He´d also given his silly speech before melting into the background. Oh, he´d won against Matt and kept his scaled model safe. He feels more than ready to go to bed, and he blames both the tiredness and the alcohol for it. 

Shiro hums and nods to himself. His room is merely three – or is it four? – doors away. He can´t remember, but it´s better if he gets moving. He nods again to let the voice inside his head know he´s about to start moving.

He trips over his own two feet on the second step.

Shiro lets out a snort, doesn’t bother to catch himself this time. His back hits the wall. He starts sliding down to the ground. Despite pressing a hand to his mouth to keep his laughter muffled, by the time his ass hits the floor he´s laughing so hard tears are sliding down his cheeks.

There´s the sound of a door opening. It takes a couple of seconds and him wiping the tears away to realize it is the door across from where he´s sitting on that opened. He raises bleary eyes, sees nothing but a blur he guesses is a human.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, tries to give a thumbs up. He ends up flashing the peace sign.

The figure stays right where it is for a brief moment, then the figure shrinks. Shiro manages to focus enough to realize the figure is a man, and that the man is now crouching in front of him. Shiro blinks rapidly, tries to make out the man´s face. When he finally manages to do it, his mouth curls up in a shy smile.

“Hi, Elizabeth Taylor,” he greets.

“Shiro,” Keith replies. He sounds amused.

“What are you doing up here?”

“Lance got too drunk and started crying not long ago. Hunk and I brought him up to his room. Hunk started crying too, and then they both fell asleep.”

Shiro squints. “Why?”

“Why were they crying? Good question. With all the babbling, I only understood it had something to do with a cow from Lance´s childhood.”

Shiro 'ah's like nothing has ever made more sense. Keith´s expression softens, lush lips forming a soft and gentle line. “How wasted are you, captain?”

“I… don’t know. A lot? But I´m still here.” Shiro sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Why didn’t I see you earlier?”

“I got here after the party had already started. You were giving your speech when I snuck in. Nice job, by the way. You didn’t look like you were in pain this time.”

Shiro groans. “It was boring. And… and you didn’t answer my question.”

Keith moves in closer and slides Shiro´s arm over his shoulders. “I was looking for you after you gave your speech. Katie said you´d disappeared with Matt and to please not bother you. She was laughing and muttering about the sad future of your constellations model. Did you bet it again?”

“I did not. Matt dared me. I couldn’t say no. And then, I couldn’t lose my model.”

“Of course you couldn´t. I´m guessing that´s how you got this drunk. You, the poster child of sobriety, getting drunk over a silly bet.” Keith rolls his eyes. He grunts, and when he pushes upward, Shiro does the same. His legs wobble, and hadn’t it been for Keith´s strong and lithe body, he would have ended smashing his nose against the floor.

Keith helps steady him. He slides an arm around Shiro´s waist. Shiro wraps his fingers around Keith´s shoulder and leans his cheek against the soft black hair. “Did you see the game?” he asks as they walk forward.

“Every single inning,” Keith assures him.

Shiro perks up. “We scored two homeruns.”

“I saw.” Keith goes quiet, then he laughs. “You made sure everyone in the stadium saw you reach home base when you screamed that yours went for Elizabeth Taylor.”

“I told you that if I got a homerun it´d be for you… didn’t I?”

“You did. Thank you.” Shiro tilts his head, can´t help but give a goofy and proud grin when he sees Keith´s cheek lifted. He knows Keith is smiling. It´s always nice to see Keith smile. Shiro hopes he did the same during the game.

Keith guides them the short distance left to his room. Shiro reaches for the doorknob once, then twice. On both occasions, his fingers hit wood instead of metal.

Keith´s groan fills the air, and it warms Shiro up more than the alcohol did. He squeezes Keith to his side while Keith opens the door. They stumble inside. Keith grabs Shiro´s hands before he pulls away and guides him to the small couch inside the room.

Shiro falls on top of the cushions. His head swims the moment he´s sitting down. He moans, shuts his eyes and lays against the back of the couch. He hears shuffling, then the sound of a body dropping next to him. He counts to ten before deciding to open his eyes.

Keith is holding a bottle of water in front of his face. Shiro takes it, and his gaze lingers on the silver and intricate rings adorning Keith´s hand. Then he notices a flash of purple, and his eyes widen when he realizes Keith is also wearing the violet ring they had bought as a half-hearted joke about two weeks ago. It´s simple, slender, with black and white lines running through it. They´d bought the pair when Shiro had invited him to visit the flea market outside of campus with him and a few other boys from the house. Keith had agreed for the sole reason that he tended to find unique pieces of jewelry in flea markets to match with his usual dark outfits. They´d found the pair of matching rings in the same place where Keith had found an opal keychain. Shiro had suggested buying them, turned into a stammering mess when Keith asked if he was serious. In the end they did buy them, and in his inebriated state, Shiro recalls having a short conversation hours before today´s game about Keith promising to wear the ring to give him good luck.

The more he thinks about it, the more he remembers the fact that he promised to wear his own to wish Keith luck when he opened up his small gallery inside the art department next week. He also remembers taking it off before the game and keeping it safe inside his jeans. He will get it out of the pants an slide it back into his finger when he´s able to walk in a straight line again.

For now, he works the bottle open with one and takes several sips. He then uses the other to trace the bands of cool metal on Keith´s fingers. He settles on the purple ring, a color that is darker yet as rich as Keith´s own eyes.

Shiro then releases Keith´s hand and presses his palm against Keith´s face, rubs his thumb over his cheek. Keith leans into the touch, one eyebrow raised. Shiro wants to kiss the expression away. He would actually do it, if they were actually going out.

Shiro feels the sudden need to _ask_. The last time they talked about them – what they were to each other, what they wanted with each other –  had been months ago during a trip to the beach with their friends. They hadn’t discussed it since. They had been walking this fine line between friendship and a romantic relationship after their talk. Just like they´d been walking it for over a year now.

He takes a deep breath, but when Keith blinks and pierces him with those deep violet eyes that earned him the Elizabeth Taylor nickname in the first place, the words die in his throat. Shiro can never get over how pretty they are, how sometimes, under the correct lighting, they seem to hold as many stars as the sky he looks into from the observatory. They hold the universe in them, a universe of feelings, ideas and thoughts that Shiro will always want to explore as much as he wants to explore the sky.

He wonders if he´ll ever get the chance.

“How long are we going to keep doing this?” he whispers.

Keith´s expressions changes from relaxed to pained right away. There is no need for Shiro to specify what he´s talking about. Keith raises a hand and presses it against Shiro´s where it lays against his cheek.

“Remind me why we haven´t taken the next step, again?” Keith replies.

Shiro thinks about it. He thinks hard. He goes back to their night at the beach, tries to remember past their hands lying right next to each other but not together. He tries to remember the words they´d said.

“I´m on my last year of university, and I have baseball future to focus on,” Shiro says, almost robotically. “You´re only on your second year, and you´re striving for more than a wall on the art department. You´re also working and saving for your own studio. We can´t—”

“We can´t afford to lose time on a relationship,” Keith finishes, voice soft. “We can be friends and keep it casual, but taking the next step means opening up a space in our lives for each other… spaces we´re not ready to open up yet.”

“It sounds so rehearsed.”

“It sounds fake.”

Shiro grimaces. Keith sighs. They stay quiet for a few minutes, then Shiro clears his throat. “I think it´s time we reconsider the situation, Keith… I don’t think either of us believes that anymore.”

“I don’t think we ever believed it,” Keith corrects. He pulls Shiro´s hand down, entwines their fingers.

Shiro blinks down at their joined hands. “Then are we going to reconsider?”

“Not while you´re drunk,” Keith says with a smile. It´s a smile that shows off his plump lips to perfection.

Shiro studies his smiling face for a bit longer, then he frowns. “I want to pull you close and kiss you right now, but I can´t do that unless we talk all this through,” he informs.

Both of Keith´s eyebrows go up this time. His cheeks turn red. “You don’t have to wait until we talk it out,” Keith says, “but I am _not_ kissing you while you reek of whiskey. Chew some gum first.”

Shiro´s laugh is a surprised burst of sound. Keith tells him he´s not joking and elbows him as he digs into the pocket of the hoodie he´s wearing. He´s not wearing any of his dark and fashionable jackets. Instead, he´s wearing an oversized hoodie covered in a starry city night sky. Shiro is pretty sure the hoodie started its life out in his on closet, but somewhere between Keith sleeping over at the house, the hoodie had changed owners. Keith wearing it right now makes their excuses sound even more ridiculous than before.

“Here.” Keith holds out a piece of gum. Shiro puts the water bottle on the floor but doesn’t take it.

“That bad?” Shiro protests half-heartedly, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Keith gives him an incredulous look and shakes the hand holding the gum.

Shiro feels inspired all of a sudden.

When he speaks, he hopes his words come out in the tease tone he intends them, not in the slurred and lame way he´s been speaking this whole time. “I never thought you, bad boy extraordinaire that you are, would be intimidated by alcohol breath.”

Keith´s eyes go impossibly wide. Shiro´s heart jumps into his throat, he starts to panic thinking he might have gone too far, and as he stumbles over his words and starts apologizing, Keith pops the piece of gum into his own mouth.

Shiro freezes, and Keith moves forward, wraps an arm around his neck. Shiro gets to see the smirk on Keith´s face before their lips meet.

The kiss starts off intense, lips brushing against each other rather urgently. Shiro´s tongue darts out first, a guttural groan dying against Keith´s mouth. Keith chuckles, parts his lips, and before Shiro can do anything, Keith is exploring every inch of his mouth… then he drops the piece of gum.

Keith pulls back the moment the bubblegum is in Shiro´s mouth. He smiles, leans back against the arm of the couch.

Shiro coughs, tries not to swallow the gum in the process. Once he stops coughing, he starts chewing. He knows he´s blushing, which is why he keeps his gaze on the floor while he chews.

“What was that about me being intimidated?” Keith narrows his eyes.

Shiro can´t help but laugh. “You´re wonderful, Elizabeth Taylor.”

“Not more than the kiss.” Keith straightens, then moves in closer, settles himself on Shiro´s lap. “Is it okay if we do this once more? Before we talk?”

Shiro thinks about it.  He thinks about the easy dynamic and comfortable sense of familiarity that has settles over them almost from the moment they met. He thinks about how normal it is for Keith to be here at the house, as normal as it is for Shiro to drop at Keith's apartment without a real excuse. He thinks about the rings, how they'd bought them without really explaining why. He also thinks about the giddy feeling the kiss has left him.

"Even with alcohol breath?" he verifies.

Keith pokes at his cheek, grinning. "No. Keep chewing, captain," he instructs.

Shiro manages to dive in and peck Keith on the mouth before he goes back to chewing. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by applepieken´s beautiful [arts](https://twitter.com/applepieken/status/1093074532867268613) on Twitter. Of course, this doesn´t even start to make them justice, but thank you for allowing me to write something about your arts! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
